Vaikom 

This time I am in India without a main reason aside from celebration and family time. Not only am I lucky enough to be able to make such a trip that can be deemed to be for no reason but this; I still have parents to share this with. I had totally forgotten what it felt like to be watched over, to be pampered for small things... and the implicit offer to take you on a pilgrimage to one of the most ancient temples in southern India... that was truly a special time. I am here with my son, Raam. Raam has not been to a single temple that was more than 30-40 years old; this one we have been visiting as a family for over twenty years. The temple is now a part of family tradition; it is that sunday trip forty minutes away that would signify our foundation, our beliefs.. a joint family outing replete with dad's fervent prayer with shut eyes and spread hands in front of the austere diety lit with lamps and flowers on the elevated pedestal. Mom's smile and knowing look that would find the nearest staircase for the occasionally sulky child to sit while we waited for the nadei to open. The black stone of the temple has remained unchanged; if I remember right its more than 4 years since I visited the temple last. The thing that strikes you the most is the utter sense of peace engulfing you as you enter the premise. The horde of devotees joined together in their quest for solace from the problems that plague the mind.. I guess its that very communion of purpose that sets this apart from all other gatherings of humans. The smell of burning oil in large lamps, the warm feel of stone against the feet and the weight of my child on the shoulders were a soothing combination... I felt myself looking to be guided round the temple like that ten year old child of years ago; my mother was reminiscing about the times we used to come here and pray for exam results. 'Now', she says, 'how trivial exam results seem'... her voice trailing away in memory of those golden years past when exams and the next test were the only main worries we harbored. As we went round the diety, I recall thinking how different things would be if I had only known how precious the sheer experience of each temple visit was. Later, I confessed to my mother in a voice full of shame for the fear they held that I feared losing all I have... people, a child, a home and above all; the freedom to pursue ones dreams. She asked me simply in return.. 'what are you afraid of losing... who you are, the extent to which God loves you.. or what you have done for God?' This was the closest anyone has ever come to pinpointing the oh-so-subtle difference between the mind and the soul.. we may lose what we deem dear.. but we may never lose who we are.. and that was all that mattered. The trip gave me an opportunity to actually talk to my mother; to have that mango juice on a hot afternoon with dad, to look at the infamous kerala buses and to marvel at the sheer beauty of the state... If we had known how precious this forty minute trip was; maybe we would realize how hard we should work to cherish the experiences that are close to the soul.